


Telepathy

by literature_and_ocean_waves



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, but there is some nice stuff in there too, figured this thing needed a beginning, part of my au, some pretty graphic descriptions thanks to telepathy so be warned, start of my au actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 09:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7568713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literature_and_ocean_waves/pseuds/literature_and_ocean_waves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So if you would have felt that even from a distance,” he pondered slowly. “Then when you were in Shaw’s head and I…” He trailed off, realizations of horror spreading across his face. </p>
<p>“Yes, Erik,” Charles repeated. “For all intents and purposes, you murdered me today.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Telepathy

“You’re what?” Erik whispered. 

“Pregnant,” Charles repeated, arms crossed and lips turned down. “Does that ridiculous helmet block your ears as well as your thoughts?”

Erik glared. “No,” he said, crisply. “It doesn’t.” He did not make any movements to remove said helmet, though. Or lower his outstretched hand holding the still airborne missiles. “What the hell do you mean that you’re pregnant?”

Charles dug his heels deeper into the soft, Cuban sand. He could feel the shock coming from the other mutants and Moira, but he ignored them. “I mean,” he replied. “That I’m pregnant. I have a secondary mutation that I was unaware of until yesterday afternoon. Hank helped me with some medical tests and they determined that, beyond a reasonable doubt, I am carrying children.”

The hard expression on Erik’s face sunk a bit lower, pulling at the stress lines on his otherwise handsome face. “Children?” he asked, emphasis on the final syllable and the plurality it implied. 

Charles shrugged. “Twins,” he answered. “The data was too early to prove it, but yes.”

Erik looked uncertain so Charles just tapped his own forehead for emphasis. 

“Oh.” Erik said simply. 

“Yes. Oh.” Charles repeated again, mouth an uncharacteristically grim line. “I just thought you would like to know just how many lives you are endangering today. Since you seem so insistent on it.” He paused momentarily and flicked his wrist in the direction of the water. “Excluding, of course, the countless ones on those ships out there.”

Erik’s hand shook a little and so did the missiles he was holding high above their heads. “You’re not going to stop me?” he murmured, questioning. Charles just shrugged again. 

“It’s not like I can,” Charles voiced. “Between that helmet blocking my abilities and my rather prudent disinclination towards tackling you to the ground as it may risk a miscarriage,” Erik blanched at the word. “I am rather powerless here.”

Erik swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Charles,” he said quietly. “We don’t have any choice…” 

Charles stared at him, dead-on and serious. “Do we?” Charles pressed. 

Erik looked from Charles to the missiles and back again. “Do you have a plan?”

“Yes.” 

Erik surveyed out over the sea to the ships, which were sitting in fearful anticipation. He did not move for the longest time and the whole beach waited with bated breath, believing that he was going to fling the missiles toward them as planned. 

But, instead, Erik exhaled out a very deep sigh that left his shoulders sagging and his posture exhausted. His lightly clenched his fist and the missiles melted into useless lumps of metal, falling harmlessly into the ocean below with no more than a few small splashes. Then he held his hands up towards the wrecked plane and submarine. Those were ripped apart and thrown together, the screech of tearing metal ringing out harshly, until there was only one pile of ruined, indistinguishable mechanical fragments. 

Erik turned to Charles and the telepath smiled. “Thank you, Erik,” he said. 

Erik shook his head. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “I am still not sure that was a good idea. What’s your plan?”

Charles cast his attention to the teleporter mutant, the one Hank had reported was called Azazel. “You,” he said. “If I put some coordinates in your head, can you take the lot of us to that location?”

Azazel seemed startled to have been addressed, but he nodded all the same. “Da,” he said in a heavy Russian accent. “I can. No problem.”

“Good,” Charles replied and took his hand. His skin was rather pleasantly warm, not the fiery heat Charles had expected from his, quite literally, devilish appearance. Charles made a come hither motion for his students, and Moira. The boys hurried to him without hesitation, like puppies called to their mother, linking hands in a chain. Moira appeared concerned, but Charles sent her a reassuring telepathic wave. “It will be alright, my friend”, he projected. She still was nervous, but she also radiated the trust she had for him. So she walked over and took Alex’s empty hand. 

Raven was standing stock still, yellow eyes wide and terrified. Charles gave her what he hoped was a gentle smile. Raven frowned and sent him flashes of hurt and betrayal. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Charles felt guilt pull on his heart, but he tuned it out. “I am sorry, Raven,” he mentally replied. “I should have told you when I found out. But you can chew me out later. We have bigger, scarier things to worry about now. Please, Raven.”

She reluctantly jogged over and joined the chain. Charles sent her one last telepathic apology. 

Charles eyed the remaining members of Shaw’s team, who were regarding the whole thing with a kind of undecided apprehension. Charles did not have time for this. “You two want to stay and get blown up?” he snapped. They immediately scampered over to Azazel and linked hands with him. 

All that was left was Erik. He was observing the line of people like it might have some kind of an answer to whatever dilemma he was facing. Which of course it did not. 

“Erik, for god’s sake,” Charles groaned. “Would you please just come here? Time is a rather pressing factor.”

Erik gruffed softly, but he took Raven’s hand. “Thank you.” Charles lipped, before turning to Azazel. He pressed the location into Azazel’s mind and the next moment there was a tug at his midsection and air screaming in his ears. He would have been horrified, except that the very next moment after that, he found himself standing in front of the Xavier mansion. It had worked. 

Angel and the storm-creating mutant (Janos, Charles pulled from his head) gaped at the house in awe, slack-jawed. Charles paid them no attention and instead hurriedly strode in the direction of Hank’s labs, with Hank hot on his heels. Charles silently blessed the boy and his immense intellect for figuring out at least the rudimentary pieces of the plan. The others in turn followed them. 

The new Cerebro was not as elegant as the first one had been, as Hank had built it with both less time and less resources, but it would work. At least for this, which was all that mattered. 

Charles threw himself into the chair and jammed the helmet on his head. At his prodding, Hank began turning dials and flipping switches in a pattern that meant nothing to Charles but clearly were logical to Hank. 

The others had finally caught up with them and were all radiating questions. Charles turned to look at them. “Don’t worry,” he said, bright blue eyes locking in on Erik’s storm-grey ones. “I’ll explain everything when this is over.”

Hank flipped the switch and Charles lost track of the outside world. 

 

Charles Xavier could live to be a thousand years old and he doubted that he would ever get over the pure joy that using Cerebro gave to him. 

So many minds. 

So many people. 

All unique and special and complicated and beautiful and alive. Oh how they were alive. 

The exciting, the mundane. 

The joy, the sadness. 

Each one with its own thoughts and feelings and memories and tastes and interests and dreams. 

And Charles got to be a part of them. Every last one. 

But Charles did not have time to indulge in that now. He had a job to do. 

He pulled himself away from the seductive high of touching all the different minds and instead focused on something else. A single word. Mutant. 

It wasn’t too hard to find. The minds that did hold this word so closely in their thoughts were practically screaming it. 

As far as he could tell, there seemed to be three groups where it was so heavily mentally emphasized: one in a conference room in the Pentagon, one aboard some navy vessels in the Caribbean, and one in a war room in Russia. 

There it was. The entirety of humans who knew for certain of mutant existence. 

But they would not for long. 

Slowly, careful not to miss any spare minds that might have slipped through the cracks, Charles wrapped his consciousness around the men sitting in the pentagon. 

They could not feel him there, which was good. Then they would not put up a fight. 

Very delicately, he began to erase. Everything that had to do with mutants over the last six months. 

Thankfully, most of these men had been uninterested in the subject until about a week ago when Shaw attacked, so there were limited memories to alter. Still. Charles was not taking any chances. 

He replaced them with the usual squabbles that the United States had with Russia. Unpleasant perhaps, but benign. 

Finally, he found the location of every single document having anything to do with mutants and telepathically ordered a pair of interns to burn them, dumping the ashes into the toilets. No evidence. 

When he was done with the Americans, Charles turned his attention to the Russians and repeated the whole process. 

Luckily, the Russian government was even more paranoid than the American one, so there were even few minds to alter. 

Charles sent a silent thank you to Joseph Stalin and his fastidious ways, wherever he may be. (Probably roasting in Hell.)

Lastly, Charles found the minds of the men aboard the ships outside of Cuba. 

They had not seen a submarine rise out of the water. Or a supersonic jet land on the beach. Or missiles becoming frozen in the middle of the air. 

No. What they had seen was a Russian warship exploded due to a fuel leak. And, moments later, another, smaller Russian ship suffered a malfunction and crashed into the beach, leaving behind only smoldering hunks of metal. 

Nobody was trying to go to war. Nobody suffered any intended damage. It was all just an unfortunate accident. 

Charles held his mind above the sailors’, waiting to see their next move. Then, officers from both sides radioed in to their superiors. They gave the information Charles had placed inside their heads. The superiors talked it over in their respective war rooms and then ordered their ships to return to their bases. Nobody needed this unnecessary drama. 

Charles watched, with hope in his heart, as the ships began to retreat towards the horizon until finally, finally that stupid beach was empty once again. 

The Cuban Missile Crisis was over. 

Charles pulled himself out of Cerebro’s hold and took the helmet off his head. Immediately, fatigue hit him with the brute strength of a runaway truck. 

He staggered to his feet, approaching the other mutants, who were staring in stunned silence. He walked over to Erik, leaned back to look at him, and smiled as best he could. 

“It is done. We are safe.”

With those words spoken, Charles bedraggled body gave up and he fell backwards toward the floor. The last thing he remembered was Erik shouting “Charles!” before the darkness of unconsciousness took him. 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Charles awoke to light in his eyes and a pounding in his head. He blinked blearily, feeling like he had just run some kind of marathon. He saw bright, cheerful October afternoon sunshine coming in through lace curtains. 

Oh. He was in his bedroom. 

Charles sat up cautiously and took stock of his surroundings. The room was as unchanged as ever and someone had done him the kindness of removing his itchy flight-suit, leaving him clad in warm pajamas instead. How nice. 

The only thing that seemed out of place was Erik, who was sitting still as a stone in a chair near Charles’s bed. Shaw’s helmet was gone, thank goodness, and he too had changed into more civilian clothing. But he still looked as uncomfortable as if he had been those silly uniforms. 

“Good. You’re awake,” he droned. “How are you feeling?”

Charles rubbed his temples. “I have an awful headache,” he replied. “But otherwise I am alright.”

Erik just pointed to the nightstand where a glass of water and some aspirin were sitting. Charles nodded in thanks before swallowing them both. Terrible tasting medicine, he mused to himself, but it should do the trick. He then leaned back into his pillows. 

“So,” Erik began, a few minutes later. “You want to tell me what went on back there?”

“Which part?” Charles asked, honest. “The part about us being safe or the part about me being pregnant?”

Erik grimaced. “Both,” he said. “But maybe start with the first one.” He folded his hands in his lap. “What exactly did you do with Cerebro?”

Charles softly blew some air out of his nose, feeling the ache of stress and tiredness deep in his bones. “I erased some memories,” he said slowly and explained how he had tracked down the minds of every person who had been involved with the mutants. 

Erik was not the type of man who liked to wear his emotions directly on his face. Years of training as a Nazi killer had beaten it out of him. But damn if his jaw did not drop and eyes did not bug out in shock as Charles’s told him the story. 

“You… what?” he stammered. “You erased… but how?! That many people…”

Charles shrugged. “I won’t say it wasn’t difficult,” he said. “Because it was. And the experience took a toll on me, as I am sure you noticed.” He smiled weakly at Erik. “But I was serious when I said we were safe. Have you seen anything on the television?”

Erik nodded. “Yeah,” he replied. “Sean thought it was a good idea to see if anything had been reported. President Kennedy was calling for everyone to relax. Said the crisis was over.”

Charles hummed proudly. Good. History would forever remember this event as nothing more than a gigantic, and immensely frightening, game of chicken. Where both teams quit their posturing at the last minute and jumped out of the way.

Despite his newly increased respect for Charles’s powers, Erik’s dissatisfaction and distrust for the plan was still thrumming inside of him like an agitated hornet’s nest. Charles offered an apologetic sigh. 

“Look, Erik,” he said, fighting the urge to reach out for his hand. “I know that protecting us all is your first instinct and I appreciate that. But killing those men would have only made things worse…”

Erik leveled Charles his trademark scowl. “They tried to destroy us first, Charles,” he growled. “I am glad that you saved us, but why do you still want to defend them?” The metal doorknobs and hinges began to shake. “What if your plan hadn’t worked? And I had not stopped the missiles? We all would have been killed. You, me, the students,” He paused, the momentary silence heavy. “Our unborn children…”

Charles reflexively put his hand on his stomach, fighting back the fear that burst into his gut like a lightning bolt. He inhaled a deep breath, calming himself. “Erik,” he said. “I know that you think I don’t see the big picture in all of this,” When Erik opened his mouth to counter his statement, Charles just held up his hand. “Telepath, remember? And as much as I try to stay out of your head, some things just leak through. Especially if you think them a lot.” 

He looked deeply into Erik’s eyes, which as always seemed to be shifting with the swirling clouds of uncertainty. “You think me naïve and optimistic and maybe you’re right. But please, please believe me when I say that I did not do what I did today because I “want to see the good in everyone”.” His voice cracked and he could not stop the tiny whimper that wormed its way out of his throat. “I did it because the death of all those men would have undoubtedly killed me.”

Erik frown softened until it was more of a look of surprise, rather than anger. “I don’t understand?” he said. 

Charles traced his thumb over the striped pattern on his pajama sleeve. “I have never really told you what it is like to have my powers, have I?” he asked. 

Erik just shook his head. “No,” he replied. “But I have felt what your power can do, shouldn’t that be enough?”

Charles grunted in opposition. “I don’t know, Erik,” he drawled sarcastically. “Do I know what it is like to feel metal singing for me every time you undue my belt buckle?”

Charles of course had felt what it was like to hold Erik’s power. But that was the nature of telepathy so it really was beside the point. Erik blushed at Charles’s rather crass example. “Understood,” he offered sheepishly. 

Charles scooted lower onto his bed, like a child hiding under their blankets. “My powers do not exist in a vacuum, Erik,” he said. “I am not a ham radio that just picks up thoughts as music or news channels when in range. Nor it is something that I can just switch it off when I feel like it.”

Erik leaned forward in his chair. “Enlighten me then,” he said, surprisingly patient. 

“The mind is… well, it’s not just the brain itself. It’s everything.” Charles remembered Cerebro and could not help but smile at how beautiful it was to be able to feel so many people inside himself. “All that a person is exists inside their mind. Not just current thoughts or feelings or even memories. Their whole sense of self. Everything that makes them a unique and singular person.” If Charles were a religious man he might have even gone so far as to call it their soul. 

“Most people only feel these things in regards to themselves or maybe someone who they are really close to. But me?” Charles whispered, staring at the ceiling. “I feel everyone.” Most of the time it was nice. Like being connected to something larger than himself. But painful emotions could sometimes get the better of him. And death, well… 

“I have seen death before, you know,” he continued. “Not nearly as much as you and never by my own hands, but I have seen it.” He trembled, refusing to elaborate further. “I can’t speak for other telepaths, like Ms. Frost back in Russia, and how they experience their telepathic abilities but for me death was… completely devastating.” 

Charles felt a few rebellious tears slither past his defenses and slide in wet trails down his cheeks. “It was like seeing a star burn out. A beautiful, pulsating, living person fighting just to keep themselves here and suddenly they just disappear. Never to be heard again.” A few more tears fell and joined their brothers as damp spots on his pajama shirt. 

“If the death was quick and unexpected then it was less awful,” he said and turned to Erik. “But most deaths aren’t like that, are they?” Erik shook his head at the rhetorical question. 

“No,” he replied. “Usually not.”

“Exactly,” Charles said. “It’s painful and messy and terrifying. And all of that terror and pain and awfulness gets sent right to me.”   
Charles grabbed hold of Erik’s arm, ignoring his startled flinch. “There were thousands of men on those ships, Erik,” he whispered, completely solemn. “Some would have died instantly when the missiles hit. A rare few might have remained unscathed and been able to cling to bits of debris. Perhaps with the hope of being rescued.” 

Charles’s blue eyes shone with absolute disgust and fear. “But most of them? Most would have had limbs ripped off and then they would have fallen screaming into the water below, bodies torn apart by exploding metal. They wouldn’t be able fight, they wouldn’t be able swim. Everything would be chaos around them until eventually their bodies would give out from the lack of blood and oxygen and then they would die with their last moments of agony frozen on their faces.”

Erik stared at Charles, the intensely graphic imagery bringing on a wave of nausea for him. “And you would have felt every single one, wouldn’t you?” he finally replied. 

Charles nodded, shaking like a leaf. “Yes,” he croaked. “Every single one. It would have killed me. I would have put a bullet in my own brain just to get it the screaming to stop.” 

He was dead serious. Never mind his strength, never mind his self-control. Never mind the two babies trying so hard to grow inside of him. 

None of that would have mattered in the face of pure, animalistic terror.

Erik nodded, the wheels in his brain turning fast, examining something. “So if you would have felt that even from a distance,” he pondered slowly. “Then when you were in Shaw’s head and I…” He trailed off, realizations of horror spreading across his face. 

“Yes, Erik,” Charles repeated. “For all intents and purposes, you murdered me today.”

Erik looked like he wanted to be sick. He grabbed Charles’s hands, holding them tightly in his own larger pair. “I am so sorry, Charles,” he deplored, looking more remorseful than Charles had ever seen him. “I won’t say that I didn’t want to kill Shaw because I did. I wanted to with every fiber of myself.” His lower lip tremored just slightly. “But I never wanted to hurt you…”

Charles squeezed his hands as best he could. “I know you didn’t Erik,” he said, kindly. Perhaps more kindly than he should have, but oh well. He was Charles; it was his way. “And I will forgive you. It may take some time, but I promise.”

Erik sighed in relief, a falling limply into his chair. “I don’t know how I still deserve you, Charles,” he said. 

Charles shook his head quickly. “None of that,” he ordered. “None of that deserving or not nonsense.” Charles pulled free one of his hands and patted the bed. Erik took off his shoes and climbed in with him, holding him close. “If I think you are still deserving of me, and vice versa,” Charles murmured against his chest. “Then we don’t need to say anything more about it. Understood?”

“Yes.” Erik replied and he let the issue drop. It was still there, Charles could feel it. But they had worked out what could for now and Charles was not going to worry about it. They would work out the rest when the time came. Besides. They still had one more than to discuss. 

“What are we going to do?” Erik asked, his mind projecting exactly what he was referring to. Charles pressed Erik’s big, square hand to his stomach, which currently looked the same as it always had but that would soon change. 

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Hank said that the babies are safe. And they should develop normally to term with no trouble.” He bit his lip a little. “Though I will need a cesarean section when the time comes…”

Erik jittered some at that. “None of us are doctors,” he said. “How are we going to stay anonymous if we have human surgeons coming here?”

“Well, we won’t need those until the very end,” Charles offered. “And Hank has volunteered to do all the tests and such.” Charles thought the poor boy might have felt a bit obligated, considering he was the only one on the property, apart from Charles himself, who seemed to have any background in science. 

Erik rumbled. “Is Hank even qualified for that?” he asked, images of Hank’s failed experiment to fix his feet jostling about inside his head. Charles nuzzled into him reassuringly. 

“He is the cleverest person I know,” he said. “And he has plenty of books and resources to back him up. He will do fine.”

“He’d better,” Erik threatened and Charles swatted him on the leg, somewhat amused. 

“Be nice.”

Erik just huffed. 

They lay in each other’s’ arms for a while, basking in relief and contentment. The fighting was over; at least for now. They had reached an agreement. Progress was good. 

Erik eventually broke the silence, idly playing with Charles’s hair. “So you still want to open a school?” he reasoned. Charles nodded. 

“Yes,” he said. “There are so many of us out there. They need us.”

“They need you.” Erik mentally projected. Charles smiled a bit. 

“They need us,” he repeated aloud. “All of us. Shaw might have been a cruel and evil man, but he was right about keeping our people close. Spread out across the globe, divided and terrified and alone, we are nothing.” He stroked his thumb over Erik’s jaw. “But together, becoming a community and forging bonds and protecting each other? We are unstoppable.”

Erik grinned, looking rather pleased. “You sound like you are preparing for war.” He said. Charles shook his head. 

“I am preparing for change,” he argued. “The world will eventually find out about us, Erik. Maybe not today, maybe not a year from now. But someday. Because if we really are the next stage in human evolution, there are going to be more and more of us with each new generation.” 

Charles could not help the warm smile that tugged at his lips and poured light into his eyes. He could feel the miniscule bright spots of his children’s consciousness’s humming against his mind like the fluttering of tiny bird wings. He rubbed his stomach, offering true affection for the first time since finding out, and just for a moment those little minds seemed to be happy. But he might have imagined it. 

He was not imagining the happiness in Erik’s mind, though. His metallokinetic lover’s thoughts were a like a pallet of pastels, gentle and soft. But it was not just tenderness for the unseen twins. And if he would not say it, then Charles would. 

“I love you, you know,” Charles said, wrapping his arms around Erik’s neck. “I meant what I said that there was so much more to you than just anger and revenge.” He kissed his cheek. “You are the most amazing person I have ever encountered.”

Erik hugged him tighter. “I love you, too,” he said. “And I agree that staying quiet and off the radar, while still gathering our people, is probably our best plan.” He pulled Charles flush against him. “But I do have a request to ask…”

Charles nodded. “Anything.”

Erik took a deep breath. “Not all of our people are going to be roaming around safely, Charles,” he said. “Even if the government did not know about mutants until recently, that does not mean that other people don’t. There are going to be mutants in terrible situations.” He cupped Charles’s chin. “I know you want to abhor violence as much as possible. But there are going to be some times when we are going to need it.”

Charles wrapped his fingers around Erik’s dexterous wrist. “What would you have me do?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” Erik replied. “For one thing, you are pregnant. I could never ask you to fight with me in your condition.”

“And in a year when I am not anymore?”

“I still wouldn’t.” He rested his cheek in Charles’s hair. “It is not in your nature to be on the offensive. But there are some in this house who may be willing.”

Charles caught a glimpse of Shaw’s former minions, including both Angel and Emma Frost, who was still in prison. Raven was also on that list. Looking proud and strong as she had last night in the kitchen. As much as it hurt to admit it, Charles knew that Erik’s assumptions about his little sibling were correct. 

“You want to be a general,” Charles said. Erik kissed his temple. 

“I want to be a protector,” he countered. “I have spent my entire adult life ridding the world of the men who hurt me and nearly destroyed all my people. Now I have the chance to make the first move and get my new people out of danger before they can be killed.” He looked pleadingly at Charles. “I still don’t know if peace is really an option, but you were right that it does not have to be war quite yet. Let me gather a team. A brotherhood. So we can rescue and protect this community.”

Charles mulled over Erik’s words. He had been right of course; peace had not been an option, at least not with Shaw. Erik would never come even close to peace until that man had paid for his crimes with his life; Charles could feel the absolution in Erik’s mind. And no matter how painful it had been for Charles to experience the death, he did agree that Shaw would never have stopped. A merciless power craze mixed with near immortality was an ugly cocktail indeed. 

Charles nodded. “Alright, Erik,” he said. “I trust you to protect us and do what you have to do.”

“Thank you, Charles,” Erik said, his mind already making plans and strategies. “I promise we will keep things efficient and professional. We go in, we get the mutants out, and we leave without a trace. No one with ever find us.”

Charles believed that was the truth. Erik had spent nearly two decades perfecting how to get away with murder; if anyone could rescue helpless mutants without alerting the world to their presence, it was him. Charles did not have to like it, but he could respect it. 

“We will focus on children,” Charles said after a moment or two. “They will need us the most. We can offer them safety and an education. One that teaches them how to use their powers.” He remembered some of the little ones’ mind he had touched using Cerebro, how frightened and isolated they felt. Well, the X-Men, as Sean had been calling them recently, would fix that as best they could. 

Erik smiled at him, pride shining in those fiercely intelligent eyes. “It is going to be great, Charles,” he said, the uncharacteristic optimism highlighting his conviction. “We are going to make something beautiful. You and me. Together.”

Charles kissed him. “We already have,” he whispered and pressed Erik’s hand to his stomach once more. The joy that blossomed inside Erik’s mind was well worth all of the madness of today. 

“Yes,” he whispered back. “Yes, we have.”

Erik helped Charles off the bed and to his feet. He opened the door and Charles could smell something delicious wafting in from the kitchen. He had not realized nearly how hungry he was. 

They walked into the dining room to find everyone already there, about to dig into a meal that apparently had been prepared by both Azazel and Janos. 

Raven dropped her fork when she saw them and leaped out of her chair. “Charles!” she cried. “You’re finally awake!” She rushed over and squeezed him in a hug. As she had the evening before, she was blue and wore no clothes. He hugged her anyway. 

“Thank you, Raven,” he said. “It is nice to be back.”

She peered up at him, golden eyes anxious. “Is everything okay?” she pried. 

Charles shared a small, secret smile with Erik. 

“Yes,” he said. “I think it will be.”

Everyone sat down to dinner and Charles began to explain. 

Today had been a day for changes. Tomorrow would be one of new beginnings. 

 

The End.


End file.
